People usually ask me what have i been up to i just sit there and look at them "like what the fuck you think i've been up too"...Living is the answer. I can say i wake up happy 99% of the time. and i get it. "well if i were on a beach i'd be happy too!" Well, dumb fuck voice i made up... it ain't that simple, cause if it were everybody fuckin would be doing it, and there would be a lot more mother fuckers getting stabbed and what not. The places i've been in this town the shit i have seen and i still have not seen everything. I have done shit in this town that i said i wouldn't do... like eating shrooms in hollywood and lsd a few weeks ago with Beck at a "burning man shindig" which i must admit, that party was not for me, i am sure the playa is nothing like that but you know what i'll talk about that shit another time.
Do you know what it's like to see where a person was stabbed? Stabbed! bled out and cleaned up not even 24 hours later as tourist walk right over that spot as if nothing happened ? It's fucking weird! and i do not say that much. The blood stained cement "cleaned" nothing to indicate "yo... someones last breathe happened here! right fucking here! As some french fuck enjoys a churro.
5-21-2018
I usually post up on thorton ave on the board walk right in front of the old snapchat office. (fuck snapchat). I was talking to Crocket and when he dipped out i said "be safe" i usually do not say that but the night had a vibe quiet unlike any other night in Venice, and i can tell you Venice always has an interesting energy to it. The life guard vehicle was hauling ass down the beach towards Santa Monica(fuck that place) on some Bay Watch type shit if you will. i snapped a photo of it, and on the boardwalk instead of the usual one cop per thirty minutes in a vehicle, three passed in a matter of five minutes and i thought yeah, maybe get the fuck out of dodge for a bit. so i did.
A coffee shop, a self love session aka beating off in my car, a nap, and a interesting ride with a stranger. I got back to Venice and it was about 00:45 and i was trying to decide... do i go to sleep or do i see what i can see. And I heard this Johns voice(Brooklyn accent) "yo, you wanna see some weird shit walk around here at 3 am... you'll see some shit." and i thought nigga... "NO! you want to see some weird shit get lost in San Francisco or walk around West Hollywood at three in the am. you will see some shit!" I grabbed the newest camera a canon, which happened to be a gift from a friend.(i don't know what it is about Canons but people just give the to me... must say something about canons)
Walking down main st towards sunset court. When i noticed an Opossum sitting on a fence watching me as i watched it. At first it seemed odd, out of place then it felt ominous as if there were something just out of sight behind it. i walked back in forth as the Opossums head followed me as it were a pendulum, swaying back and forth, which again seemed odd cause i thought these dudes had bad eyesight, might this be the only Opossum with 15/20 vision. Wondering "why is this dude walking like that" ...
i walked down the board walk examining all the people that were on it. A lady and what i can only assume was her bitchmade boyfriend were wandering a bit before he decided to venture back to safety, she soon followed whicha dude shuffling around looking for cigarettes and who knows what in the sand.
When i came across the scene of a crime, instinct said "get to high ground" so i did. the first thing that caught my eye were the three blood stains. the start, middle and end. At this time this fellow named Rick had came up next to me and said "that amount of blood they are probably dead..." i asked him how often does shit like this happen he shrugged and said more than people know. i looked back at the blood and the cops that were there. There were no news crews, no media of any type to say "hey before you come down to Venice this memorial day weekend just know someone was stabbed... enjoy the churro and beach." But you can not allow fear to dictate what you do, i just found it odd no one was there... well except Rick, myself and the cops.
i walked back to my car after seeing this and passed the fuck out after taking a few more photos... the next morning i woke and went to set up on my usual spot... and i felt conflicted for about two hours... somebody was fucking murdered, and i am here creating art. i saw the blood with my own eyes and i am here painting... what does that say about me?